


Like a Promise

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-31
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five moments in a relationship</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/gifts).



1.  
The first time Neal fucks Elizabeth, he feels like he's in a movie going in slow motion. He's hyper-aware of all the details. Of the sweat on her forehead, her eyes gazing up at him, and the way her mouth opens when thrusts into her, like he should be pushing his cock in there instead. Like that's where she really wants it.

When he glances over at Peter, he sees a fire and intensity in him that's just plain _wrong_ for a man watching someone else fuck his wife.

Neal likes it because it's pure lust.

Elizabeth digs her fingernails into Neal's arm, and his attention snaps back to her and the way she's clenching around his dick, and pulling his head down to kiss him and bite at his lower lip. She's rough, and he can tell she's holding back. He likes that, too. He'll like it even more when she doesn't hold back.

Neal comes first. He tries to hold it off, but it's too late and he's coming. He had wanted to make her come, to make her scream, make her fall in love with him all over again, but instead he offers a couple weak thrusts before pulling out. He glances up at her, and she smiles, not looking dissatisfied in the least. He grins and lowers his head to rest between her breasts. Her fingers comb through his hair.

He turns his face to Peter and the breath is caught in his throat. Peter looks ready to come undone, his hands deliberately not on his cock, but gripping the armrests of the chair; his lower lip is bitten red and raw.

Neal slips off the bed, crosses the two steps to the armchair, and runs his fingers across Peter's sweaty temple. "Hey," Neal mumbles, leaning down to press a kiss to Peter's mouth. Elizabeth sits up on an elbow to watch.

"Neal," Peter says, reaching up to wrap his hand around the back of Neal's neck. They kiss again, and Neal bites down on the tender lip. Peter's fingers dig into Neal's skin.

Pressing another kiss to Peter's mouth, just off the corner, Neal says, "Go on. Fuck your wife. Make her come first, okay?"

Maybe it's the direct order, or that fucking Elizabeth is familiar territory, but Peter seems to relax as he nods and goes to the bed. He draws El up into his arms, and she looks tiny compared to his broad shoulders and large hands, but it's only an illusion, because she's strong and curvy, and has the body of a goddess. She takes him effortlessly, still wet with Neal's come.

Neal curls up in the warm armchair, the tracker on his ankle digging into his skin, and he watches the way Peter relents the control to Elizabeth. How she rides him, her fingernails digging into his shoulder and scratching at his back. The attention Peter pays to her nipples, licking and biting until she comes, grabbing his hair -- there's the scream Neal had been looking for.

Elizabeth shoves her first two fingers in Peter's mouth, and he presses his tongue between them, almost out to the back of her hand. Neal sits up straighter to watch this, to watch El work her fingers around Peter's tongue, and how his mouth closes around them to swallow as he comes, bucking hard. Neal wonders if Peter could come without touching himself while giving a blowjob.

She pulls her fingers out, but only enough so Peter can kiss the bite marks.

Have to get the biting out of him, first.

Neal stands and goes back to the bed, wrapping an arm around Peter's middle to hold him up, to keep him from lying down next to El. "Hang on, cowboy," Neal says, and runs his fingers gently over the red scratches on Peter's back. He looks over at El. "Nice artwork. Why didn't you do this to me?"

She shrugs. "I didn't know how you liked it. I can do that, if you want."

Nodding, his eyes back on the loving marks. "I'd be honored."

 

2.  
Neal is nothing if not professional. He smiles, he flirts, his gaze doesn't linger too long on Peter when they're in the office. He's completely in control of himself, even when he's thinking about Peter's mouth on the patch of skin just behind his left ear. He's made a livelihood off of constantly appearing composed. This is no different.

Peter, however, isn't as good. He's obvious. He's staring, if not at Neal's face, at his hands, or his neck. Pretty soon, people are going to start noticing.

Finally, Neal corrals Peter in his office. "You have to stop this," he says, closing the door separating the office from the conference room. "You're going to blow this whole thing wide open."

"I'm not good at sneaking around," Peter admits.

"I don't get it," Neal replies. "You're nails when you're undercover, but you can't look the other way when you're not directly speaking to me?"

"That's the job. This is personal."

Neal shakes his head. "No, _this_ is the job. The job is to not get fired, because that's bad for everybody."

Peter sits back in his chair. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"No." Neal's eyes go wide, and suddenly his heart is beating in his throat. He wants this -- no, he _needs_ this. He needs them. If he has to go back now, to alone, to knowing exactly what could have been, it would be devastating. "No, Peter, it would get worse if we stopped now. You'd be a lot more aware of what you can't have. You just need to change your tactic. You can do undercover -- you're undercover. You have to fool all of them into thinking that you're not fucking your consultant."

"That's not helping, Neal."

Neal grins. "Think about all the irritating things I do. When I go around your back and get information in ways of questionable legality."

Peter rubs at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "I do hate it when you do that."

"See? Helping already. Peter, I..." Neal trails off and Peter looks up at him. "I know it's hard. It's hard for me, too. But we can ride this out, and it'll get easier. It has to."

Peter nods, licking his lips, and for all the talk he just put out there, Neal suddenly wants to kiss Peter senseless. He doesn't care that anyone could look through the glass walls of the office and see. He wants his lips on Peter. He wants to kiss him until they're both gasping for air. Until they're drowning and loving every second of it.

"At some point," Neal continues, not sure if he's convincing Peter or himself, "we'll just be an old married triad who goes to bed to sleep. We won't be thinking about sex at every turn. That's what happens, right?"

"Have you seen my wife?" Peter asks with raised eyebrows.

"Good point." Neal laughs. "Just... relax, okay? If you get fired, I'm going back to jail, and everyone loses."

Peter nods again. He looks up at Neal and he's beautiful, sad, and good, and everything Neal loves about him. Everything that weighs heavy in Neal's heart. Now he doesn't care about drowning, he just wants to kiss Peter until he smiles. Until he doesn't have a care in the world.

This is a good man, and Neal could very well be ruining him.

"I love you," Peter says softly, and Neal could cry.

 

3.  
The twelfth time Neal fucks Elizabeth, they're on the sofa with only an audience of Satchmo while an _NCIS_ rerun is loud in the background to mask El's moans from the neighbors who like Mark Harmon, too. It's so domestic, an early evening stolen fuck on the sofa, it's cute.

He kisses her collarbone, and bites her shoulder. She likes it as rough as she can give it, and Neal enjoys giving it to her. She wraps her legs around him and squeezes him when she comes. Neal wears the scratches on his chest like a prize.

He wants to stay there, curled together on the couch with his shirt unbuttoned, his trousers around his ankles, and El's underwear on the floor, but she gives him a chaste kiss and wriggles out from under him. She picks up her panties, but doesn't put them back on.

Neal watches her as she sits at the table with her laptop, working like a grown-up, something he had purposely avoided throughout his adult life. Sure, that landed him four years in prison, but this was a good end. This justified the means. He'd always been prone to believe in things like destiny, that he would have found Peter and Elizabeth no matter what, but it's hard to see how. This life wouldn't have been his life if he'd gone to college, if he'd gotten a job, if he bought a house. This would most likely not even be on his radar.

And that would be a shame.

"I fucked your wife," Neal says when Peter comes home a few hours later.

Peter blinks, then leans down to kiss him. "Good. Glad to know someone can pick up the slack when I'm not around."

Neal laughs. "Come here, sit." He takes Peter's hand, pulling him into the empty seat, and then Neal curls up under Peter's arm, resting his cheek against the surprisingly soft fabric of his suit. "Did anyone question me being here while you were still at the office?"

"If they did, I didn't hear about it," Peter replies. "Were you worried?"

"It was on my mind," Neal says, shrugging.

Elizabeth steps out of the kitchen, wine glass in hand, and the pauses to admire them. "I thought I heard you come in," she says, walking across the room, her feet bare, slapping softly against the hardwood floor, to sit down on Peter's other side. She kisses him. "How was your day?"

"Long. Lots of paperwork. It's days like these I wish _I_ was the consultant," Peter says, reaching up to loosen his tie. "Now I want to kick back with a beer, and enjoy a nice quiet evening."

"After you blow me," Neal says.

"After I -- really?"

"Don't you want to?"

Peter pauses to consider. "Sure. I didn't realize it was on the agenda. I hadn't gone much past beer and relaxing."

"I think you'll find it very relaxing," Neal says. He sits up so he can unbutton his trousers. "Afterward, you can have your beer and we'll see what we can do for your further relaxation."

 

4.  
"What the hell do you think you were doing back there?" Peter asks. He's looking straight ahead and his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are going white.

"He was getting away," Neal replies, knowing that isn't going to cut it.

"Doesn't matter. That's not your job. We're the agents, you're the consultant. That wasn't consulting. What would have happened if Jones hadn't been there? Tell me."

Neal looks down at his hands for a moment. "I probably would have been shot."

"That's exactly what would have happened." Peter shakes his head. "This has to stop. You can't keep putting yourself at risk like that. This isn't the first time. You weren't protecting anyone. All you were doing was putting yourself in danger. I don't know what you think you were trying to prove, but--"

"I wasn't trying to prove anything," Neal says. "I was just trying to get the guy. I had a better vantage point than anyone."

"When you were unarmed and _not an agent_. You keep pulling stunts like this and one of these days your luck is going to run out."

Neal opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates. He swallows, and drops his head. "I'm sorry." It's still hard to admit apology, but this is his life now. This is the domesticity he wants. This is life he asked for. His pride can take one every now and then.

Peter glances over at him and nods. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Neal reaches over, resting his hand on Peter's thigh, but Peter doesn't acknowledge it. He leaves his hand there anyway.

Peter still isn't talking to him when they arrive home. The house is dark and empty, as Elizabeth is out of town on business.

"Are you going to be mad at me all night?" Neal asks as he shrugs out of his coat.

"I'm not angry," Peter says, snatching the coat from Neal's hand. He hangs it up on the hook and frowns. His frowns are deep and thoughtful, and age Peter about five years. "I can't lose you, Neal."

"Oh, Peter." Neal slips his hands inside Peter's jacket and pulls him close, pressing soft kisses up his jaw. "Peter," Neal mumbles in his ear, "that's not going to happen. You're stuck with me."

Peter tilts his face so he can kiss Neal, kissing him hard, like it hurts. Like it's a promise.

The kiss, however, is broken up by Satchmo whining at their feet. Neal looks down with a smile, then back up at Peter. "I'll take care of him," Neal says. "Just be ready for me when I get back."

"Ready how?" Peter asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Ready... however you want." Neal kisses him again, grins, and goes to retrieve Satchmo's leash.

The walk is leisurely, Satchmo taking his time, sniffing at each tree with careful consideration. They're a couple blocks over when Neal finally turns back, even as much as Satch would clearly rather walk him to Bushwick.

Back home, Neal lets Satchmo off the leash and heads upstairs to find the bathroom door closed and the light on. He knocks twice, then pushes the door open.

Peter is standing in front of the sink, toothbrush in his mouth, wearing nothing but a navy blue towel around his waist. All of a sudden, Neal is _really_ hoping Peter will want to have sex tonight.

"Hey," Peter says around a mouthful of foam. He spits in the sink and looks up. "I took a shower."

"No kidding." Neal steps into the bathroom and gently fingers the damp hair, showing just a hint of grey, at Peter's temple.

For the first time in a long time, Neal doesn't know what else to say. Saying _I love you_ doesn't seem like enough, not on a day when he could have been shot. He doesn't want to think what that would do to Peter. How it would expose them more than they're already exposed. If he had died, Peter would break. Neal knows this. He has a responsibility now, to Peter. To Elizabeth.

He's still not used to it.

Instead of saying anything, Neal takes Peter's hand and pulls him to the bedroom. Peter grins, and Neal loves that smile. Peter smiles like a kid on Christmas morning before the gifts are unwrapped, and everything holds promise. Like Neal is one of those presents every morning of the year.

Neal removes the towel from Peter's waist and spreads him out on the bed, Still fully dressed, except for his shoes, Neal climbs on top of Peter to kiss his neck and his shoulders. To move slowly down his chest. Neal loves this body, the solid strength of Peter.

He's just grazed Peter's nipple with his lips when Neal suddenly feels the burn of tears. He stops, lifting his face away from Peter's chest, away from that solidity that's so fragile. So prone to cracks. Because of _him_. Peter's allowing himself to be vulnerable to Neal, giving something he gives to so few, and Neal doesn't know what to do with it. It's almost too much. Tears slide off the end of his nose and drip onto Peter's skin.

"Neal?" Peter asks, and Neal looks up to see Peter's bewildered face.

He almost laughs because Peter is adorable, not knowing how to handle someone crying. Even someone he knows. Someone he loves.

"I'm sorry," Neal says, trying for a smile. "It's been a long day."

"Yeah," Peter agrees, and he gently wraps a hand around Neal's arm and pulls him back up, so they're face-to-face. He carefully undoes the knot in Neal's tie. "Are you okay?"

Neal nods. "I didn't mean to ruin the moment."

"There'll be other moments," Peter replies, and it's exactly the right thing to say.

 

5.  
"You're only a few hours out," Peter says, looking up at Neal from behind a blue folder.

Neal grins. "I think we got away with this."

"Yeah, well, I think we're the worst kept secret in the Bureau." He lowers the folder and asks, "Where are you going to go when the tracker comes off?"

Neal gazes across the desk. It's been their back-and-forth for weeks. If Peter needs to keep hearing it, he'll keep saying it. "Home with you."

"Good."

There's a party at lunch, a sort of bland office affair with cans of soda and a sheet cake, but Neal appreciates it anyway. He likes the reminder that he did worthwhile work here. Worth a party and a handshake from Hughes. Everyone keeps asking him about his plans, and he shrugs, smiles, and says he doesn't know quite yet.

He doesn't know. His plans haven't gone any further than home with Peter.

Elizabeth shows up, and he kisses her cheek, like she's a friendly acquaintance. His handler's wife. Then she whispers,"I'm not wearing underwear," in his ear before he can pull away.

Neal grins and glances across the room at Peter.

Peter keeps looking at him like he's hungry and he can't wait to take that first legal, ethical taste. Neal isn't sure he's going to let Peter's mouth near his dick tonight. He's never quite been broken of the biting.

Neal makes a speech, and it's funny and moving. He even chokes up at one point, but he can't remember a damn thing he said because he's too busy watching Peter and Elizabeth with their arms around each other, smiling at him. Proud of him. Proud to call him theirs.

After lunch, the party breaks up, and Elizabeth leaves. Neal sits in Peter's office, and they discuss money laundering. It could be any other day, except at four-thirty, Neal's anklet is officially removed.

"I think it's going to be a good day," Neal says, and when they're alone, he looks to Peter. "Are you going to take me home now? Make sure I don't run?"

Peter gazes at him, then nods. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

They aren't half a step outside when Neal pulls Peter to the side and shoves him against the building to press their mouths together. His hands slide inside Peter's jacket, holding his body in place, not letting him get away.

"Neal," Peter murmurs, "people can see us."

"I'm a free man," Neal replies. "I'm free to kiss you wherever I want."

"Sure, but maybe not outside my job. I still have to come back here tomorrow."

"You're the one who said we were the worst kept secret in the Bureau."

Peter pauses, then smiles. "I did say that."

"Take me home, Agent Burke," Neal says, releasing Peter from the wall.

Elizabeth is waiting for them at the house. She kisses them both and leads them upstairs. True to her word, she's not wearing underwear, and Neal pushes up her skirt so he can bury his face between her legs. With Peter's hand is in his hair, Neal wonders how many times he's fucked her. He's long stopped keeping count.


End file.
